Wanna Be a Rockstar!
by Shatterdoll
Summary: After a world conference America and Prussia decide they are going to start a band, pulling England, Turkey, and Russia into their scheme. Now if only they could agree on anything for five seconds... Warning for some language.


Hey all~ So this is the one shot for my 500th reviewer, Fretful!

Prompt: UK, USA, Prussia, Russia and Turkey being unapologetic, inglorious bastards after hours at a world conference. That or they form a boy band (hey, there's five of them...). Humorous.

Sooo I kind of mixed the two together? -laughs- Sort of. I also did my best to make this funny so I hope it makes all of you at least crack a smile. I apologize in advance for Turkey, I don't know how he interacts with anyone but Greece and Japan so I had to go with a rather vague description on the Wikia Hetalia entry on him. There should be more Turkey, man is a sexy beast.

Also this is my first rated T thing for this site! -laughs- There is some language... but I've read worse in T rated stories so I think it should be okay?

**Disclaimer: **None of Hetalia is mine. Unfortunately. Nor do I own Rock Band or I'd be very rich.

* * *

The large room sits nearly empty, most of the countries having rushed off already to other engagements or responsibilities, or just to get away from each other.

Once again the World Conference had been a bit of a bust. The first half was wasted by France trying to convince them all to embrace global nudity—which wouldn't have been a problem if some of the others hadn't been so eager to embrace the idea as well—and had then died a sad death as America ran away with the meeting with his usual foolishness. After that there was no hope of getting things on track and there had been a series of unrelated arguments around the room until one could not hear oneself think. The only thing that had stopped it was the announcement of the meeting's end by a very loud and irritated Germany.

Now there are only four stragglers. England is straightening the room of the chaos that had just hit it. Germany had promised to help and then had disappeared with Italy, promising vaguely to return soon. America very reluctantly and grumpily helps him as forced punishment for his stupid comments. ("What do you mean stupid? My ideas are awesome! Okay, okay fine! Don't lecture me and I'll help bushy brows.") Turkey lingers, reading a novel he's been buried in for probably more than half the meeting. He's almost done with it. Russia lurks in his chair for no apparent reason, smiling cheerfully and blankly at the mostly empty room. England and America avoid his corner.

The general silence of the room is broken by the door bursting open. Prussia comes striding in, glancing about the room quickly. "Hallo fools! Germany in here?"

England leans up to answer curtly that obviously he isn't, but America eagerly rushes over to him, taking any excuse not to clean. "Nah, he went off to talk to Italy about something. What brings you here?"

Prussia shakes his head. "Scheisse, that means the lucky bastard's getting laid. What a jerk! And I came here to pick him up and everything. How long has he been gone?"

"Probably fifteen minutes."

Prussia mutters another curse. "Fine, I'll just wait here while my selfish brother has himself a good time, not caring about his awesome älter Bruder who cares so much for him. Why are you hanging around with all these freaks?"

America rolls his eyes. "England is making me clean up. Somehow it's a crime to be amazing."

Prussia shakes his head. "No one understands we few awesome individuals who blaze like comets in the midnight sky!"

England snorts. "More like blazing morons."

Prussia and America ignore him, America immediately beginning to complain. "It's so lame. I just got a new version of Rock Band and I was going to go straight home to play it."

Prussia raises an eyebrow. "What, alone?"

"Hell no, I was going to harass what's his face, you know, my brother...Anyway I was going to make him come play."

Prussia waves a hand. "Forget that guy, I'm coming over! I rock out loud! What version do you have?"

England shakes his head in disgust. America is lost to him. Oh well, let the children talk about their rubbish.

England has just about gotten the room straightened—quite on his own no thanks to anyone else—when the volume of America and Prussia's voices gets out of control.

He turns to them. "Bloody hell, what are you shouting about?"

America grins at him. "Hey, hey England, we're going to start a band! Man, it will be so badass! Eh, let's see, we need five people so you can be in it, okay?"

Prussia snorts. "You're letting him in?"

America turns to him. "Yeah, we need five people, we'll work with what we have. Russia! You can be in! And Turkey, stop being lame and doing pointless things like reading, you're in our band too!"

Russia's head turns slowly towards him. "Oh? You're asking me?" He giggles. "I'm so pleased to be involved."

He stands and walks towards them. Prussia scowls. "Stop inviting people just because they're here! They'll totally cramp our style."

America puts a finger in his face. "We need five members. So now let's assign parts. Yo Turkey, I said get over here. Books won't do anything for you that being a rock star can't do for you ten times over!"

Turkey puts his book down to look over at them with an amused smile. "And what can I get from being in a rock band that I will not enjoy from the mental stimulation of reading?"

America smirks slyly at him. "Japan really has a thing for bands and stuff. I bet he'd be your biggest fanboy."

Turkey's cheeks flush beneath his mask. "...Very well, let's hear it then. Make us into a rock band."

America gives him the thumbs up. "That's the spirit!"

England scowls. "Is everyone getting involved in this nonsense? Fine, get it over with you two so we can get back to sanity."

Prussia cackles. "As if there is any sanity among any of us. Okay well let's see, we'll start with assigning the roles for everyone. As I am so fuckishly awesome I appoint myself lead singer!"

America shakes his head. "Oh hell no, England is going to be the lead singer, he's the best of us for sure."

England blushes, not expecting it. "Y-you think so?"

America nods but Prussia scoffs. "I have a seriously sexy and manly voice that will make women and men alike faint with desire! 'Cause I'm that awesome!"

"No way! It's going to be England. He has the voice of a Britannian angel!"

They growl at each other, England flustered and tongue-tied in the background. Russia suddenly interjects, pointing to himself. "What can I be?"

Prussia and America look at him for a moment and put their heads together, whispering rapidly. They both nod and look back up at him. "Drummer."

Russia blinks. "...Eh? But I don't want to play the drums...I'd rather be something else."

Prussia shakes his head. "Nah, definitely drummer material. You're so tall and all, well, you have to be sitting or you'll make certain individuals look way too short."

America laughs and pats Prussia's head, who waves him away angrily. "I meant England!"

England glares at him. "Hey! I'm not that short, the rest of you are just too damn tall! And you Prussia are a bloody midget! You're shorter than I am!"

"Why you-!" The two lunge at each other and try to strangle one another.

America ignores them. "OK! We have our lead singer—totally England—and our drummer—totally Russia—and I will be the lead guitarist! Yeah, all the chicks will be all up on me!"

Turkey leans his chin on his hand. "You know, with your ego I'm amazed you didn't want to be the lead singer."

America rubs the back of his head laughing. "Nah, my voice is too annoying for that. Besides, guitar is awesome too."

All of them are silently surprised that America acknowledges his voice is annoying.

"Besides, everyone knows guitarists are it! I would also be the heartthrob of the group."

Prussia releases England and gets in America's face. "Obviously I would be the heartthrob, Dummkopf."

America snorts. "As if! You would totally be the 'cute one' at best, England is the 'older brother', Russia is the 'shy one', and Turkey is the 'bad boy' duh."

"Why does Turkey get to be the the bad boy? I am totally more that image!"

"What are you, stupid? He has a mask. A mask, Prussia! That totally screams mysterious bad boy!"

Prussia grits his teeth. "Yeah well...you're the one that gets a thousand STDs and dies alone in some crack addicts basement!"

America pushes him. "Well you're the one that will die in a freak mysterious accident and no one will ever know the truth that it was actually me who killed you all along!"

Now the two of them start trying to strangle each other and England rubs his forehead. "Dear lord..."

Turkey stands and starts to remove his coat and shirt as they fight. "Affedersiniz, I have to interrupt. I think there is a bit of a misunderstanding."

He poses, one gloved hand lightly against his mask, the other just barely pulling his pants down enough on one side to show off the top of his hip bone, his tanned and muscled torso practically glowing."I'm the heartthrob."

Everyone in the room stares, an audible "Ooh..." escaping all of them.

Russia clears his throat. "Um, do you think I could be the cute one instead?"

He leans over, looking flustered and something falls to the floor. He picks it up, blushing with embarrassment. A chill goes down all of their spines as they see it is a heart. He giggles. "Oops! Please ignore that, it happens sometimes... So can I?"

Before America or Prussia have to answer that England breaks in. "Alfred, I really have to ask because the more I think about it the more I think you're the biggest idiot in the universe. What with you talking about there needing to be five of us and trying to assign 'types'... Are you mixing up a rock band and a boy band?"

There's a long pause as America's face goes blank. "...Uh...oh. Oops you're right. Well then I guess we don't have to worry about types so let's not discuss that. Ever again. Ever. And put your shirt on Turkey, you're just bragging at this point."

Turkey chuckles as he starts to put his shirt back on. England looks utterly revolted to know America. Russia seems a bit put out. "Well can I at least be something other than the drummer?"

Prussia waves his hand. "Nope, you're the drummer. Fine, so America's on guitar, he's on drums, what the hell can you do Turkey?"

Turkey slips his coat back on and adjusts his fez. "I'm particularly skilled with the Saz."

America taps his chin thoughtfully. "No one knows what that is so you can be the bass guitarist."

Turkey scowls at him. "You mean you don't know what it is."

America waves his hand. "Exactly. So, that just leaves you Prussia. What the hell are you going to do?"

Prussia smacks the desk, livid. "Hey, you and me started this but I'm just getting pushed out like I'm just some nobody! This band would be nothing without me! Do you hear me? I'm going to write out how much you guys suck in my blog and no one will go to your shows!"

America gasps. "How can you do that to us after all we've been through?"

He suddenly shakes his head and clamps his hands on Prussia's shoulders. "No...no! You're right... Damn it Prussia I'm sorry... I owe you more than this. The band owes you more... We'll have two lead singers!"

Prussia puts a hand over one of America's, squeezing it tightly. "Are you sure...? Can we really do that?"

America smiles at him. "Yes we can!"

Prussia starts to laugh and throws an arm around England's shoulders. "Yush! I hope you can harmonize bitch, 'cause I have the vocal chords of a god! A super awesome god!"

England groans and tries to push him off.

Turkey picks up his book and starts flipping through it. "I have no interest in playing bass guitar."

Russia shakes his head. "And I don't want to be the drummer. And if you make me...well... something bad will probably happen."

He suddenly gives off a very menacing aura. America looks at both of them then sighs. "Well... I guess you could switch."

Prussia makes a giant x with his arms. "No way, like I said, he has to be sitting!"

America runs a hand through his hair. "Turkey is pretty tall too, do you think it matters? We'll put you on different ends of the stage. And give you platform boots."

Turkey interjects sharply. "I don't want to play the drums either."

America throws his hands into the air exasperatedly. "What's wrong with the drums? Drummers are badass! Just look at Rick Allen! Fucking awesome! I bet Japan would be super impressed with how well you can work a stick."

Turkey coughs. "Er...I'd still rather play something I'm used to."

Prussia suddenly tugs hard on America's sleeve. "That's not important right now. I just realized we need to choose a name! How about...'Fuck Awesome!' Yeah that rolls off the tongue."

America shakes his head. "Don't be ridiculous. That's a terrible name. Obviously it should be 'Alfred Jones and his Backup!' Now that's a name!"

Everyone gives him menacing looks and England smacks him in the back of the head. "You arrogant wanker! No one is going to call it that!"

America pouts. "Well I think you're all just jealous, that's right, jealous! And I'll tell you what, that's because you all know how this is going to end. Once I kill Prussia in a fit of alcohol induced jealous rage and hide his body the band will fall into chaos, eventually breaking up. Turkey, who loses his one true love Japan to another man, probably Greece, while on tour will drive off a cliff, his car exploding on impact! Soon after attending your funeral Russia's plane will crash in a freak accident as he is returning home. In a moment of madness, England will turn to drugs to cope with the pain of his fallen comrades in such a short time and eventually overdose. Then I, alone in the world with all of the guilt, will overcome and live a good, decent life. Forever keeping your memories alive while I exist in glorious victory!"

A few minutes later England, Prussia, Russia, and Turkey have all had their fill of kicking America's ass.

America sits up, not sure what part of his body he should rub first. "Ouch! You guys are assholes! Can't you take a joke? Jeez..."

Turkey collects his book. "Well, as amusing as that all was I am going now. Perhaps I will pay Japan a visit."

He waves and leaves the room. Prussia tosses his head. "Good, we didn't need that guy anyway. He'd have made all of us look bad. Though you know, having an actual band sounds like way too much work. How about we just stick to Rock Band for now."

He offers his hand to America who takes it. He hauls him to his feet. "Mm, yeah you're probably right. It's just as good anyway right? Hey, now that Turkey is gone we have the perfect number of people to play! Er..."

Russia brightens. "I can come play too?"

America and Prussia look at each other. Finally America shrugs. "Oh why the hell not. We were going to have you in our band anyway. Just for a while though. You come too England. You'll be the singer because you really are the best."

"Hmph, if I must. I guess I could come for a while." He turns away as he says it to hide the soft smile that comes to his face.

America punches the air. "Alright! Let's play expert mode until we collapse from exhaustion!"

Prussia grins. "Ja! Perfect scores across the board! Whoever has the lowest score has to do something humiliating!"

Russia trails behind, laughing. "Sounds like a lot of fun."

England shakes his head. "Children, really. But I suppose it would make the game more interesting..."

The four leave the room, chatting easily, and feeling as large as life as any rock star.

* * *

Translations:

Scheisse-Shit

älter Bruder-Older brother

Dummkopf-slow witted, stupid

Affedersiniz-Excuse me

Terms:

Saz-Turkish Long Neck Lute, a type of stringed instrument.

Rick Allen-One armed drum player of Def Leppard


End file.
